A Little More Tequila, A Little Less Demon Hunting
by Tochi and Flap Jack
Summary: What would have happened if John had had a little more tequila and a little less demon hunting? AU
1. Anger

Tochi: Yeah, I was re-watching Nightmare, and then BOOM! An idea hit me!

Flap Jack: No that was me.

Tochi: abusive -sulks- ANYWAY! The title is a line taken straight from that episode.

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It had been 3 years since Mary's death, and her death had struck the family terribly. She was John's only true love. His soul mate. How could she just be gone like that? Whenever he was drunk enough, he'd think about her, and get mad at Sam. If it weren't for Sam, she wouldn't have died.

The way John saw it, it was all Sam's fault.

The seven year old Dean always did all he could to protect Sam, but then he got hit too.

After the fire, most of the house was burnt, so they moved in with Mary's parents. They were getting on in years, and couldn't get down the steps to the basement where John and the kids lived, and they couldn't hear the children's screaming.

Whenever the boys would go upstairs, John told them a story to tell to their Grandparents, usually falling or running into things, sometimes, 'Dean got too rough when we were playing' And then Dean was punished, which only made John a little happier.

The way John saw it, Dean was getting what he deserved.

He shouldn't have gotten in his way, he shouldn't have tried to protect Sam. It was all Sam's fault. All his fault.

Sometimes during his sober hours, usually between the time he woke up and 11 o'clock he would be angry at himself for what he was doing to his kids. They were the only things he had left from Mary. Mary had loved both of them so much, this wouldn't be what she wanted.

But that's what was happening.

Right now, John sat in the little room they used in the basement as a living room, bottle of Tequila grasped in his hand, eyes glassy from the alcohol.

John was drunk again.

Sam and Dean were both in the bedroom, Dean holding his three year old brother as Sam silently sobbed into his shoulder. Sam knew what that bottle meant. It meant he was going to be beaten, and he was afraid.

"It's ok, Sam." Dean whispered, rocking him slowly, "I won't let him hurt you."

Sammy burrowed closer and clutched Dean's shirt tighter in his little fists.

He knew Dean would try to protect him, but the seven year old was no match for their full grown father, Dean would only slow him down.

Sam and Dean both froze as they heard the door creak open, and John standing in the doorway, swaying a bit on his feet.

"You lil' fucker. 'S all your fault!" He slurred, moving into the room, Dean's arms tightening around Sam's little body.

"Daddy, don't, he didn't do anything, leave him alone." Dean tried, Sam clinging to Dean tightly.

"'E killed, Mary, 's all 'is fault!" He slurred again, his fist slamming into the side of Dean's head before he grabbed Sam by the collar of his shirt, ripping him away from his brother's grasp.

"'s all your fault!" He repeated throwing Sam to the floor, "You killed 'er!" He cried, kicking Sammy in the side, Sam curling up into a ball to try and protect himself.

John growled and picked him up by the scruff of his neck, the little boy sobbing softly.

"You killed Mary." He growled, throwing Sammy back into Dean.

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Flap Jack: Wow, didn't know she had it in her.

Tochi: Sorry it's so short but… -cries in corner- POOR Sammy! -clings to baby Sammy-

Flap Jack: Wimp. Read, Review, Alert, Join my army.


	2. How It Was

Tochi: For me this is a very quick update.

Flap Jack: Yeah, it was less than a month.

Tochi: . ;

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John panted as he leaned against the wall for support, both boys still on the floor, breathing slowly.

Satisfied with his work, John picked up his sons, putting Sam in his bed and Dean in his own. He pulled the covers up over their battered bodies and turned out the light before going back to their living room, seating himself in his chair the bottle of Tequila empty and forgotten.

During the beaten, he'd sobered up. He usually did. He was almost mad at himself for beating his children like that, but Sam deserved it. Sam killed Mary. Mary was John's only love. Sam deserved what he got.

Dean was the first to stir, only about 5 minutes after he'd been tucked into bed and quickly wiggled out of the covers, going over and crawling into Sam's bed, curling up around him, his arms going around his small body.

Sammy didn't deserve to be hit. Sammy didn't kill Mommy. The fire did. Why couldn't Daddy see that? How was it Sammy's fault.

"Dean?" Asked a small voice right next to his ear.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Is Daddy going to hit me again?"

Dean sighed and pulled Sam closer, Sam hiding his face in Dean's neck.

"Get some sleep Sammy." Dean whispered quietly, Sam snuggling closer to Dean's body.

"I can't… I'm scared." Sammy whispered in a choked voice, tears dripping onto Dean's neck.

"It's alright, I'll protect you Sammy."

The beatings had started right around Sam's second birthday, so it'd been about a year. A year of living in fear.

Before this started, they'd been as happy as they could be without Mary there. Without a Mommy. Sam was a lot fussier once Mary was gone, he was hungry and they didn't have Mary to breast feed him. Sam wouldn't take the bottle if John was trying to feed him at first. He'd push it away with his chubby little hands and whine and squirm.

John was really worried about his youngest son. He wouldn't eat no matter what John did.

Xx_flashbackxX _

_John sighed as he heard Sammy crying through the static of the baby monitor. He rolled over and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up before he went and picked up his infant son. By the time he'd gotten out of bed, he noticed that there was no more crying. Worried that something had happened to little Sammy, John had hurried to see what had happened._

_When he got to the room he found Dean had climbed into the crib and was holding a still whining and squirming baby Sammy close. Dean looked up when he heard the door creak open and looked up at his father._

"_Sammy's hungry." He reported quietly, still holding his fussy baby brother. John nodded somewhat sadly and went to the crib, taking Sam out of Dean's arms and started toward the stairs that led to the upstairs with the reliable fridge and microwave. John was half way up the stairs when he heard footsteps climbing up after him. He turned around to find Dean following him up the stairs._

"_Dean, it's fine, go back to bed."_

_Dean shook his head and looked up at his little brother's frowning face, tears welling in his eyes. "I wanna make sure Sammy's ok."_

_John sighed, figuring that it would be faster to just let Dean come along. The trio went up the steps and quietly maneuvered past the boxes full of their still unpacked things into the kitchen._

_John pulled the door open to get one of Sam's bottles and Sam started wailing again, squirming even more. John sighed again and turned around, handing Sam to Dean._

_Sam almost instantly stopped crying._

_Then John was struck with a brilliant idea. He took out one of Sam's two bottles and heated it in the microwave, letting it set for a minute and checking it on his wrist to make sure it wasn't too warm or too cold, then went to where Dean was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs holding Sammy. John handed Dean the bottle and Dean looked up at his father with a questioning look._

"_Feed Sammy." John said softly and Dean nodded, holding the bottle just like John had._

_And Sammy didn't fuss anymore._

_Later that night, John had felt a dip in his bed, and opened his eyes to see Dean staring down at him._

"_Dean, what's wrong, bad dream?" John asked, propping himself up on his elbows._

_Dean nodded slowly and looked down at his father, John drawing his son into his arms._

"_Daddy?" Dean whispered, holding John's t-shirt in his small fist. _

"_What is it Dean?"_

"_When's Mommy coming back?"_

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John remembered crying himself to sleep that night. After that night Dean had taken on the role of feeding Sammy and cuddling him at night. Dean took on the Mommy role.

Now Sammy was three, and that happy little trio had disappeared as John resorted to alcohol to help remedy his grief.

John only beat them when he was drunk, the happy little trio almost existed when he was sober, except that the two little boys were always sort of afraid of him.

John just wondered if things would ever be the same again as he took a sip of red wine.

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Tochi: This chapter is longer and it doesn't have any real abuse in it…

Flap Jack: Read, Review, Alert, Join my evil Flap Jackian army.


	3. Beds

Tochi: Ok! I'm trying to keep the updates going pretty smooth and even… but I'm not promising anything… at all 'cause school? Just started –whines-

Flap Jack: school –curls up in fetal position-

Disclaimer: Linc: Other than the plot, we own nothing… or do we?

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Dean woke up in the middle of the night by a dip in his bed. He cautiously opened one eye and was relieved to find it was Sam and not John after his midnight round.

"Hey Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean asked quietly rolling onto his back.

Sam instantly huddled close to him, burying his face in Dean's chest, "I'm afraid Daddy's gonna come and hit me again." He whimpered, holding onto Dean's shirt tightly.

"It's ok Sammy, he's probably passed out now." Dean assured quietly, holding onto Sam tight.

"No it's not." Sammy sobbed.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean asked in a quiet tone, sitting up, bringing Sam up with him.

"I… I had an accident." Sam whispered shamefully huddling close to Dean.

Dean really couldn't blame Sam, being three and all, after all he was still small and still had a small bladder and the little guy slept like the dead usually. The last time that had happened though, John had found out Sammy had gotten hit and told Sam that he couldn't do anything right… and then he hadn't been in full on drunk rage.

"It's ok Sammy, we'll wash you up and change the sheets; he doesn't have to know." Dean murmured petting Sam's hair, "Come on, help me get the sheets off."

Little Sammy nodded and scurried off the bed, started pulling the blanket off, succeeding in falling on his butt and getting tangled in the fabric.

Dean smiled at his brother's enthusiasm momentarily forgetting what had happened last time. He quickly got off the bed after Sam did and untangled Sam.

"Take those up stairs and put them in the dirty laundry pile, alright?"

Sammy nodded and drug the sheet upstairs while Dean tossed the pillow off, finding it un-soiled before pulling off the bed sheet.

Once it was off, Dean took them upstairs, wary of the wet spot and put them on top of the blanket that Sam had laid down, finding Sammy climbing on top of the dryer and reaching for a towel.

Dean was instantly worried for his little brother's safety and quickly grabbed him around the middle, pulling him back down, "I'll get it Sammy."

Sam only nodded and stepped out of big brother's way. Dean climbed on top of the dryer and grabbed a towel before jumping back down, careful not to land very loudly before taking Sam's hand and leading him to the bathroom.

Dean locked the door behind them and made quick work of washing Sammy up, wrapping him up in a towel before nudging him toward the door.

Little Sammy reached up and unlocked the door, quickly going back to their room downstairs, Dean not too far behind.

Dean dressed Sam then ran upstairs to the hall way closet and grabbed his other set of bed clothes, the ones with the power rangers on it.

Dean took a while getting the sheets back on, seeing as it was dark and he hadn't done this more than 4 times in his life.

After Sam was tucked in bed, Dean laid back down in his own bed.

Dean started drifting in and out of sleep and he felt another dip in his bed. He opened his eyes and froze instantly, finding that it wasn't Sammy this time, but instead, his father.

"Hey… Dean… I… I wanna talk to you for a little bit." John said quietly so he wouldn't wake up Sam.

Dean nodded slowly and sat up, John standing and heading out of the room, Dean following behind him.

John sat down in the family room, but Dean stayed standing.

"Dean… I… I'm sorry about what happens when I have a few too many. I don't mean it… it's just… that's how I deal with my grief, and… I'm just sorry that you two are caught in the crossfire."

Dean nodded, and waited until John had paused for a while before he backed out of the room and crawled back into his bed for the third time. He curled up on his side, looking at the wall.

'_If you don't mean it, then why does it happen every day?' _Dean thought to himself, nuzzling into the pillow, slowly drifting off to sleep.

He got in a little sleep… maybe two hours before he felt another dip in his bed. He yawned and rolled over, looking up into his father's drunken face.

This wouldn't end pretty.

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Tochi: Yay another update!

Flap Jack: Review mortals! Alert and join the army and all that jazz.


	4. Over

Tochi: I'm updating!

Flap Jack: I don't care!

Disclaimer: Linc: I don't own anything!

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"Didn't mean anything I said you little fucker. Hate both of you." John growled, his fist hitting Dean in the chest before he grabbed his shoulder, wrenching him out of his bed.

Dean was glad he couldn't remember anything his father said as he beat the living hell out of him. He's glad he couldn't remember most of the beating, and he was glad that Sammy wasn't physically injured again.

It was pretty bad as far as beatings went, and Dean was sporting a broken wrist, curled up around it on the floor.

John had left a while ago, probably to get more booze, and Sam was instantly kneeling by his big brother.

"Dean?" he whimpered, clinging to his brother's back, shaking him a bit. "Dean are you ok?" He asked with another whimper.

Dean was breathing raggedly tears streaming down his face, pain shooting up his arm every time he moved his arm.

"Sammy, call 911 for me." Dean forced out, "Tell them I fell out of bed and hurt my wrist." Which was pretty actuate, actually. When John had thrown Dean from his bed, Dean had tried to break his fall by putting an arm out behind himself, but John had come down on him and forced more weight on it which is what made it snap.

Sammy nodded and scampered off upstairs to get the phone. He carried it downstairs, holding it in both arms as he descended the steps.

Sam hurried into the shared room and sat down next to his brother's head, setting the phone down and looking at the numbers, trying to remember which ones were which exactly.

Sam remembered an episode of Sesame Street where they showed what buttons you pressed, the far button on the bottom right side, then the top button on the top left side twice.

He held the phone up to the side of his head and it rang once before a lady's voice came over the line.

"911 what is your emergency?"

"My brother's hurt!" Sammy all but yelled.

"Do you know what happened?"

"H-he fell outta bed and hurt his wrist!" Sammy whimpered, holding the phone in his shaking in his little hands.

"Ok, try and clam down. Now, do you know your address?"

"Uh… umm… No… I can't remember."

"Calm down, everything will be alright. Now, what's your name?"

"Samuel Joshua Winchester." Sam answered promptly, happy to be able to answer something right.

"Ok, Sammy, is your mommy or daddy there?"

"No, Mommy died in the fire and Daddy's drunk."

"It's alright sweetie, someone should be there soon."

Sammy nodded and stood up, "Ima go upstairs to let them in." He informed Dean before scampering upstairs, phone in hands.

No sooner had Sam gotten upstairs before there was a knock on the door, he ran over to it and stood on his toes, turning the lock before setting the phone down and using both hands to heave the door open.

"Hello, someone dialed 911?" an officer asked another standing next to him and an ambulance coming up the drive.

"I did." Sam said, bending over and picking up the phone, offering it up to the cop.

"Is there an emergency?" The officer asked, taking the phone and putting it up to his ear only to find the line dead.

"By big brother's hurt." Sammy whimpered, looking up at him with a lost puppy look.

"Where's he at?" The officer asked patiently, Sam quickly scampering to the basement steps and climbing down the stairs quickly, the police officer not far behind.

Sam went into the shared room and sat down next to his brother who was still curled up around his wrist, shivering with the sheer pain of it.

The police officer knelt next to him and eased him onto his back, carefully pulling his arm away to look at it, Dean sobbing quietly as it was moved. He took a quick glance at it and nodded to himself, his partner leading the paramedics down to the room.

"Broken wrist." The officer informed, standing up and moving back away from Dean.

The paramedics nodded and one knelt next to him, carefully lifting him into her arms. "It's ok, hunny, I'm going to make you all better, ok?" She said softly with a sweet smile, Dean nodding after a beat.

"Is your mother or father here?" The officer asked, looking down at Sam.

"Daddy's drunk again."

"And your mother?"

"Mommy died in the fire." Sam whimpered, tears coming to his eyes as he had to go through telling that for the second time in a night. John blamed him for the fire and Mary's death, he was afraid that if he heard him, he'd hit him again.

The officer nodded and looked down at him, "Let's get your brother to the hospital." He said gently, taking Sam's small hand and leading him up the stairs and outside.

Sam whimpered quietly when he saw them putting Dean in the back of the ambulance strapped down to a stretcher.

The officer led him over to the ambulance and lifted him inside, the paramedic closing the door from the inside.

Sam watched the house fade from the distance, having the feeling he would never go back.

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Tochi: Sorry this took forever. School made me it's bitch.

Flap Jack: -curls into little ball- the learning –twitch- Read –twitch- Review, Alert and join me in rehab.

Tochi: Thought you always said join your army.

Flap Jack: The school –twitch-


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